


just to hear your heartbeat

by colourexplosion



Series: sweet harmony [2]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Light BDSM, M/M, Verbal Humiliation, Watersports, hints of D/s
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-06
Updated: 2015-02-06
Packaged: 2018-03-10 17:45:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3298613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/colourexplosion/pseuds/colourexplosion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>The flight from LA to Sydney is stupidly long.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	just to hear your heartbeat

**Author's Note:**

> helloooo again! um. how funny that we find ourselves here. ANYWAY. 
> 
> this story is set in the same universe as [in sweet harmony](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2772635), which means **this is a watersports fic.** if you don't like that, don't read this. there's also some hints of D/s, and some (consensual) verbal humiliation. if that's not your jam, then this fic probably won't be either. tell me if there's anything else in here I should tag. 
> 
> thanks again to kate for the read-over! the title is from fifth harmony's "like mariah" and this is so so so fake and PLEASE do not show to anyone related to the boys in any way or the boys themselves. please. anyway, enjoy!

The flight from LA to Sydney is stupidly long.

Harry knows this because he's flown it before, but this time seems even more torturous. Maybe because it's been so long -- well, no. Not that long. Only since the ARIAs. A few months. Still, fourteen hours feels like a lifetime.

It's easier with Louis by his side. They've managed to reacquaint themselves with each other's space; worm their way into places they’d always fit together. They slept tangled in one of the cramped seat-slash-bed combos the plane offered, Louis half on top of Harry’s torso, head tucked under his chin and Harry’s arms around him with their legs intertwined. Harry had woken first, his hair wild and eyes puffy with sleep and Louis woke not long after, a red imprint on his cheek from a crease in Harry’s shirt. Usually Harry sleeps on top of Louis, or Louis sleeps behind him, but it's easier in small spaces for Harry to be the big spoon, as much as he'd prefer to be the little one.

In any case, they've still got a few hours of their flight left, and they can't even fool around because the rest of the plane is packed with the bodyguards and crew they'd used to get them through LAX. Generally speaking, an audience doesn’t really phase Harry, but he doesn’t know everyone on the plane personally, and he’d like to avoid getting himself in trouble because he can’t keep his hands to himself. Even though that means the last three hours are going to be incredibly boring. Harry frowns and flips through the movies on the list, trying to decide on one to watch when Louis shifts next to him, shoving Harry’s arm a bit on the armrest. 

"Alright?" he asks, and Louis looks at him, flashes a smile and nods. Harry leans over to kiss him, just because he can. Louis hums against his mouth, sounding pleased, and Harry pulls away to choose a film.

\--

Halfway through Mockingjay, Louis crosses his legs, only to uncross them again a few minutes later. He jiggles his knee, jostling Harry’s until Harry reaches over and puts a hand to Louis' thigh, stopping him.

"Do you want me to pause it?" Harry asks. Louis looks up at him, brow furrowed like he doesn't understand why Harry would ask. Harry knows better than to think he’s actually confused.

"So you can go to the loo," he clarifies, smiling slightly at the way Louis flushes pink, probably from being caught out. 

Louis shakes his head, hiding his face in Harry’s arm when Harry asks him if he’s sure. Louis gets like this sometimes, Harry’s come to realize. When he’s particularly tired or nervous about something he gets shy and obstinate. Harry’s found the best thing for it is to make his decisions for him. Or, to guide him into them so he doesn’t have to think too much. 

"Louis," he murmurs, bringing his mouth to Louis' ear so he can speak directly into it in the way he knows drives Louis mad. "Do you want to wait?"

Harry feels the shaky breath Louis lets out against his arm, making the skin erupt in goosebumps. Harry fights back a shiver. Louis doesn't answer.

"Louis," Harry repeats, the hand on Louis' thigh tightening until Louis makes a noise, small and broken, in the back of his throat. "Answer me. Use your words. Do you want to wait?"

"Yeah," Louis breathes in response, so quiet Harry almost doesn't hear him. Harry nudges him until Louis lifts his head, his eyes gone dark. "Yeah, I wanna wait."

Harry smiles. It's been a while since they've done that, the wetting thing, but Harry can't deny that he's been watching Louis’ liquid intake like a hawk these past few days, itching for something he still feels like he’s not allowed to have. 

Louis shifts in his seat again, drawing a leg up and resting his chin on his knee. Harry looks at him a moment, gaze drawn to his mouth before flicking away all together. He focuses on the movie again, sliding his hand up and down Louis’ thigh as they watch, almost as an afterthought.

\--- 

“Have another cup of tea,” he murmurs to Louis when one of the crew asks if they want anything. Louis looks at him and Harry watches the movement of his throat as he swallows, his hand squeezing Louis’ leg to keep himself from kissing him. 

Louis has another three cups, one right after the other, Harry greedily watching the bob of his Adam’s apple as he gulps it down. He leans over when Louis’ finished, nosing into his hair and sliding his hand over the low part of Louis’ belly, pressing just slightly. Louis’ breath hitches and Harry grins. 

“Such a good boy for me,” Harry says, slipping his hand under Louis’ shirt to rub, firm and sure. Louis whimpers, grabs Harry’s wrist and shifts in his seat. 

“Not yet,” he says, and Harry presses a kiss to his forehead and leans back in his seat. If Louis wants to wait, then they’ll wait. Louis still calls most of the shots anyway. Besides, Harry loves to watch this part, when Louis tries to distract himself from the pressure in his bladder and the growing bulge in his pants. Harry knows if they wait long enough, he’ll start to focus so hard on not pissing himself that he can’t focus on anything else. His speech goes all funny and his eyes get a bit glazed and he’ll start to shake. Once, maybe the second time they’d done it, they waited so long that Louis had barely been able to stand. Harry had stripped him down and put him in the ridiculously large bath in their hotel bathroom and covered him in kisses until he let go, writhing and panting under Harry as he’d come apart. It had gone everywhere that time, all over Louis’ tummy and thighs and the tub, and all over Harry’s legs as well. He minded less than he thought he would, which was something he hadn’t really let himself think about again. 

He can tell it’ll be good this time, because twenty minutes later the plane’s finally almost down and Louis keeps shifting in his seat every few seconds, his eyes gone pinched and his shoulders tense. The plane lands with a hard jerk and Louis’ eyes squeeze shut as he makes a noise that sounds like it was torn from him. 

From there it’s a lot of waiting to deboard, then waiting for luggage and waiting to get into the vans to get to the hotel. Harry keeps his distance, wary of cameras and overeager fans and paps as Louis wanders through the baggage claim looking dazed. To anyone else he probably just looks tired, but Harry knows better. 

“Chin up,” he says as he passes Louis on the way to grab his bag. “Lots of people waiting. Don’t want to let them down.” 

He doesn’t wait for Louis’ reaction before walking away again, immersing himself in conversation with one of his bodyguards while Zayn gets shuffled out the door to the vans. Louis is next, a few minutes later, and then Harry goes after him. They’re not put into the same van -- which makes absolutely no sense to Harry, because it’s not like they’re going to different bloody hotels -- so Harry taps his fingers on his knees and stares out the window until they get there.

\---

Louis is on him the second Harry opens the door, tugging at his -- already ripped -- shirt and knocking his bags out of his hands. 

“C’mere, come _here,_ ” he says, hooking his hand into Harry’s waistband and pulling him close. Harry loves when he gets like this, desperate and wild, his eyes bright and hands trembling. Harry takes Louis’ face in his hands and kisses him, kisses him until he relaxes, his body nearly slumping into Harry’s as he does. 

Harry pulls away to catch Louis’ gaze. “What’s the word?” 

Louis blinks a few times, licks his lips before saying, “Lightning.” 

Harry hums, gives Louis a kiss for his trouble. “You’ll use it if there’s something you don’t like?” 

Louis looks up at him, his gaze so open and trusting that it makes Harry’s breath catch. Louis nods and goes up on his toes to kiss him again, and Harry wraps his arms around Louis’ waist. Louis’ never used the safeword, but Harry had insisted on one, just to be sure. He didn’t want to fuck anything up. Still doesn’t. 

“You ready for the loo?” Harry asks. His mouth feels numb already and his jeans have grown uncomfortably tight in the past few minutes. Louis nods up at him, backing away and taking off his hoodie. Harry grabs his arm when he goes for his shirt, linking their fingers and crowding into Louis’ space, guiding him backwards into the bathroom. 

“Want you to keep it on,” he says, squeezing Louis’ fingers in his own. It’s not something they’ve done before. Generally they’re only in their pants or completely naked when they do this. Harry isn’t really sure why. Maybe if they’ve still got clothes on it’s a bit too real, or something, but that’s what Harry wants, today. He wants to see the aftermath on Louis’ clothing and he wants to see Louis blush at the reminder when he has to send them down to be laundered. “Can you do that for me?” 

“Yeah,” Louis says, hands fitting around Harry’s hips and pulling him closer. He sounds breathy and eager, like he’s been just waiting for Harry to suggest it. It makes something burn low in Harry’s gut, spreading through him like wildfire. God, he loves this boy. 

“Yeah,” he parrots, because he knows now that Louis likes it, that Louis wants to feel a little embarrassed. He says that the shame of wanting it all makes everything better when he gets it, says that it makes him feel too hot and too tight and like he might shake out of his skin if Harry weren’t there to hold him together. 

Harry crowds him into the shower once they make it to the bath, sparing a moment to flick on the lights. It’s always better when Harry can see. 

“Bet you want everyone to see, yeah?” Louis’ back hits the wall and Harry kisses him hard, a hand fisted in his t-shirt. Louis grabs at him, his hands tugging at Harry’s clothes and hair as they kiss. Harry pulls away for a breath, his hand sliding down to put pressure on Louis’ bladder. Louis shivers against him, going onto his toes for Harry’s mouth again, but Harry ducks him, keeping steady pressure with his hand.

“Should make you walk through the corridor when we’re done,” he says, grazing the shell of Louis’ ear with his teeth. “So everyone can see your clothes, yeah? So they can see how you wet yourself.” 

Louis twists under him, whimpering out his name, but doesn’t tell him to stop. Harry presses closer, biting at his jaw. 

“God, you’d love that, wouldn’t you? For everyone to see you all dirtied up. Want everyone to see your wet shorts and know what you’ve been up to,” Harry says, rubbing his hand over Louis’ belly. Louis has been gazing up at him from under his eyelashes, his pupils blown wide and black, his lower lip bruised from how he’s been gnawing at it. There’s a flush on his cheeks that Harry loves and a tremor in the line of his shoulders that lets him know he’s close. 

“You’re such a fucking slag for it,” he says, pressing his hand into Louis’ stomach firmly with no warning, tearing a noise from Louis’ mouth. “Always want people to know how disgusting you are, like it’s something to be proud of.” 

Louis closes his eyes and groans, his back arching off the tiled wall of the shower. Harry crowds closer to him, mumbling sweetly, “Always look so pretty when you beg, too. No one’d think you get off on this, y’know. Not a pretty thing like you, no one’d know you’d get on your knees if you thought it’d speed things up.” 

“Harry, please,” Louis pants, straining his head up. Harry dips his head down, giving Louis less than he wants but being sweet about it. 

“It’s up to you, love,” Harry says, relieving the pressure of his hand to stroke his fingers gently over the skin of Louis’ stomach, making the muscles tense. “It’s always been up to you. You’ve got to do it.” 

“I can’t, I can’t I can’t,” he says, and Harry kisses him, petting Louis’ stomach until his hips are rocking up toward him, trying to get the hand to go elsewhere. 

“Do it, Louis,” Harry says, punctuating it with a sharp bite to the hinge of Louis’ jaw. “Do it now.” 

Louis moans, his hands coming up to grip Harry’s shoulders as his whole body shudders between him and the wall. Harry looks down to watch the wet patch on Louis’ shorts grow, watches it spread from the center and down his legs until they’re absolutely drenched in front. 

He goes silent and still, and when Harry looks up at him, he looks back with heavy-lidded eyes, his pupils still blown black and his lips bitten red. Harry moves forward, kissing him, pressing himself between Louis’ legs, not caring that he’s getting Louis’ piss on his jeans. They’re just jeans, they can be washed. Kissing Louis until he can’t remember his own name seems more important right now. 

Louis seems to have other ideas, though, since his hands sneak down to pull at Harry’s flies, somehow getting them undone and his jeans down. His pants go with them, and Harry tugs down Louis’ shorts to rut against him. Louis wraps his slim hand around Harry’s cock and strokes him. 

“Want you to fuck me,” Louis says as Harry’s hips punch up into his fist. God, Harry wants that too, but he’s not sure he can make it. 

“Maybe later,” he pants, getting his hand on Louis’ dick to work at the head. “Don’t think I’d last, now.” 

“Pity,” Louis murmurs, kissing at what seems like any part of Harry’s neck he can reach. Not that Harry’s complaining, or anything. He works Louis over faster, his own legs starting to shake with the way Louis’ started thumbing just under the head of his dick. 

Harry doesn’t deign to answer him, just angles his wrist the way he knows Louis likes and kisses him until they both come, hard and messy. Harry leans on Louis for a moment to catch his breath and then helps him out of the soiled clothing, turning on the shower to rinse off. 

They make their way to the big hotel bed when they’re done, half-wrapped in the plush towels. Harry feels like he could sleep for a month, and Louis looks it, but they can’t. It’s barely midday in Australia, and they’ve got rehearsal later. 

“Can’t fall asleep,” Harry says, poking Louis in the ribs when his eyes start to droop. Louis takes it as an invitation to curl into Harry's side. Harry runs a hand through his damp hair, starting to relax a bit himself. “Got rehearsals later.” 

“Yeah, I know,” Louis says, his eyes closing anyway. 

Well. Maybe a nap couldn’t hurt.

**Author's Note:**

> Maybe at some point I'll write one where Harry and Louis switch places. WHO KNOWS? thanks for reading!


End file.
